Watson your face?
by Amalya Cumberlock
Summary: John comes back to Scotland Yard after a year- with a new look. How will Anderson react, and will Johns appearance change his life forever? #Anderbeard


It had been nearly a year since Sherlocks suicide. Although grief and regret had hit him quite unexpectedly, Anderson had gotten over his feeling of guilt for annoying Sherlock (although he swears it was on purpose only by the end of it) and got on with his life- working at Scotland Yard as a forensics scientist.  
He was just grabbing a coffee with Sally when he saw a sight which put most of the room into silence- John Watson.  
He shook hands with Lestrade and the two sat down at his desk. As odd as it was to see the man who always escorted the great Sherlock Holmes, the sight that shocked all of Scotland Yard was not that- it was the long, blond shape on his upper lip- could it be called a- a moustache?  
Anderson held his torso. What is that burning feeling at the pit of his stomach? Must have been the sushi he ate last night. He tried to forget it, but every time he turned his head to watch his boss talk to the short man now wearing a black coat like Sherlock used to, the burning came back.  
Every night since then, as he lay, sexless, next to his lovely wife, he would think about that glorious, thick moustache. How it decorated John Watsons face like a crystal chandelier in Jay Gatsbys home.  
A week later he walked in with slight stubble on his cheeks. He didn't have time to shave.  
"Good morning," Sally said, winking.  
"I like the stubble."  
He nodded, a pleased smile on his face. The smile was wiped away quickly by Watson striding in, the edges of his 'stache waving in the wind and bringing the burn back to his stomach. Apparently, the short man had been asked to replace Sherlock in the trickier cases, as he had been foreshadowing him for quite a long time. This meant that every morning, as he walked into work, that graceful 'stache was watching him. Weeks had past, and the facial hair still stared at him, so he stared back.  
People started to get worried. They didn't understand what was happening, although Anderson saw nothing wrong. He was coming to work on time, he spent time with his wife and with Donovan. Christ, even John was getting worried, asking if everything was alright. What did they want?  
After work he went home, waiting for the broccoli soup Sue had promised him. But when he entered Greg, Sally, Sue, John and a few co-workers and friends sat in his living room with grim faces on.  
"Something wrong?" He asked nonchalantly, though obviously something was.  
"Luv, this is an intervention," sue said, walking towards him and placing her hand lightly on his Shoulder. He pushed it off gently and walked into the middle of the room.  
"For what?" He asked. When he received no answer, he repeated "an intervention for what? I've seen the way you all look at me. I've been eating, I've been sleeping, I do my job, I-"  
"You don't shave, Anderson," John interrupted him, his moustache flailing from side to side as he talked.  
"W-what?" He stammered cluelessly.  
"You haven't shaved in over three months," Sally said, stepping forward. She seemed sincerely worried, they all did.  
"Listen, mate, we all love you," Lestrade began, interrupted by a low grumble from Johns throat and uncomfortable fidgeting from most people in the room.  
"Anyway, you're great at your job, but something's going on. You have a- a.. Christ, I can barely manage to say it- you have a large beard."  
It was true. Anderson hasn't put his mind to shaving in the past few weeks, and now that he thought of it he also hadn't looked much I the mirror. John walked over to his wall and took the small, bronze antique mirror off of it, handing it to him. As Anderson stared at his own unfamiliar face, he saw a beard. About an inch long in each growth direction, it was a mixture of dark red, black and grey. Quite majestic if I can say so myself, he thought. He looked up. Above the mirror was johns worried face, moustache and all. He threw the mirror down on the floor.  
"Watch out, Watstache," he said, looking at Harold as he stood mere inches from John.  
"There's new facial hair in town." He turned around, threw his hands in the air and ran out of his house yelling "#ANDERBEARD!", and since the. Was not seen.

* * *

_8 months later, 221b Baker Street._  
A group of Sherlock fans sits huddled as they see the tweets flooding their dash, all scared with the same tags- #Sherlocklives, #sherlocksnotdead- and #Anderbeard!  
"I knew it!" Yells an obese, Irish girl as Anderson, still bearded, holds his phone up to her face. They have succeeded. Anderbeard has become a thing.  
Hoorah!

* * *

Notes:

To those who do not know/ understand:

Harlold is the name given to the Johnstache, a.k.a John Watsons moustache from the last two teaser trailers of Sherlocks third series.  
Anderbeard is the ship nam of Anderson and his quite majestic beard- seen in the unaired gay pilot and the newest trailer.  
I am just so frackin' happy about that damn beard I might just die.


End file.
